“That’s he,” the keeper whispered to Hugh, “the one with that mark upon his forehead,” and he pointed to one of the convicts advancing slowly towards them.
With a start and a shudder Hugh grew cold and sick, for it needed but a glance to assure him that he stood in the presence of Adah’s guardian, whose sudden disappearance had been so mysterious. Hugh never knew how he kept himself from leaping into that walk and compelling him to tell if he knew anything of Willie Hastings’ father. He did, indeed, take one forward step, but the next moment he controlled himself as he remembered where he was, and knew it was no place for a scene. “But I must see him,” he thought, “I must talk with him and compel him to tell me what he knows of Adah Hastings.”
Hastily quitting the spot, he explained to the keeper that there was a particular reason for his talking with Sullivan, and asked permission to do so. At first the keeper hesitated, but finally consented, and an hour later, when the convicts left their work, Hugh Worthington was confronting the famous negro-stealer, who gave him back glance for glance, and stood unflinchingly before him as if there were upon his conscience no Adah Hastings, who, by his connivance, had been so terribly wronged. At the mention of her name, however, his bold assurance left him. There was a quivering of the muscles about his mouth, a humid moisture upon his eyelids, and his whole manner was indicative of strong emotion as he asked if Hugh knew aught of her, and then listened while Hugh told what he knew, and where she had gone.
“To Terrace Hill—into the Richards family, this was no chance arrangement,” and the convict spoke huskily asking next for the doctor, was he at home? had he met Adah yet? and still Hugh did not suspect the magnitude of the plot, and answered by telling how Dr. Richards was coming soon to make ’Lina his wife.
Hugh was not looking at his companion then, or he would have been appalled by the fearful expression which for an instant flashed on his face, and then quickly passed away, leaving there a look of terror and concern. Accustomed to conceal his feelings, the convict did so now, and asked calmly when the wedding would take place. Hugh named the day and hour, and then asked impatiently, if Sullivan knew aught of Adah’s husband.
“Yes, everything,” and the convict spoke vehemently, for he, too, saw the keeper consult his watch, and knew that he must hasten.
“Young man, I cannot tell you now—there is not time, but wait and you shall know the whole. You are interested in Adah. You have been kind to her. You never will be sorry. The wedding, you say, is Thursday night. My time expires on Wednesday.
“Don’t say that you have seen me, or that I shall be present at that wedding. I shall only come for good, but I shall surely be there.”
He wrung Hugh’s hand and went to his lonely cell, while Hugh turned away, haunted by some presentiment of evil, and hearing continually the words, fraught with far more meaning than he supposed, “I shall surely be there.”